Going in Blind
by Starry-Inkwell
Summary: Gods don't get involved in mortal affairs for any real reason, noble or otherwise. When it really comes down to it, it's just for the sake of entertainment. Sasuke Uchiha finds this out all too well as he treads the uncertain and often rocky path to redemption. This story is AU, wherein Sasuke died as a result of his wounds at the VotE after his final battle with Naruto. Gen fic.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Gods don't get involved in mortal affairs for any _real_ reason, noble or otherwise. When it really comes down to it, it's just for the sake of entertainment. Sasuke Uchiha finds this out all too well as he treads the uncertain and often rocky path to redemption. This story is AU, wherein Sasuke died as a result of his wounds at the VotE after his final battle with Naruto. Not canon-compliant after 698.

 **Chapter 1: The Boredom-Bred Contract - Sasuke**

"Are sins…ever forgiven?" –Cloud Strife

"I've never tried." –Vincent Valentine

"Well, I'm gonna try. I'll phone in the verdict." –Cloud Strife

 _Final Fantasy Advent Children_

Age brittle bones were crushed underfoot as the Shinigami drifted through the sea of skeletons landscape that made up a great portion of the Underworld. Chewing on his dagger in thought, the deity's florescent eyes swiveled around in search of some form of amusement, a distraction…an escape from a brand of utter boredom that could only be experienced with eternity. The sky was a dark cauldron mixture of smoky black clouds and rich dark purple backdrop that swirled, the clouds forming sinister smiles to beam down at the world's inhabitants. All around the kami were hundreds of long vacant corpses, a stark white that contrasted swimmingly with the overcast sky. Most were jumbled, melded together to form an endless and depthless pit that covered the land, forming a carpet for the agonized feet of travelers. Others were more decorative and formed "natural" landforms such as mountains, bushes and trees. The "tree trunks" were made of human femurs and the leaves naught but hands woven into tibia branches. It gazed almost longingly at a skeletal hand that clutched onto a dangling ruby apple nearby, sweet and succulent and dripping with the delicious poison that was blood.

There were not many examples of vegetation or plant life here for obvious reasons. The Shinigami now stood upon a small island, not more than 20 feet in diameter which was isolated by a large lake of blood, as thick and as rich as red velvet cake batter. Planted on this small island was a very large cypress tree whose limbs reached out far and wide, an open palm whose "fingers" spread gratuitously. The bark was oil black and the leaves a steely grey, the edges as sharp as shuriken. Swaying in the decaying flesh smelling wind was a single skeleton that was fastened to the trunk. Its feet were inches off the ground and its remaining right arm was secured to the tree by rotted vines whose thorns dug sharply into the wrist. All that remained of its left arm was a stump where the rest had been removed at the elbow. The shape and size of the pelvic bone suggested it was male and the size indicated it was an adolescent anywhere from sixteen to eighteen. His head was bowed. Moss fringed upon the edges, softening it for the maggots and other unmentionable parasites that had latched onto the remains. Flicking away the maggot dripping from an empty socket that was but a gelatinous yellowed tear, a purple, bead-chained hand cupped a delicate cheek bone.

" **Perhaps you could be of some use…"** Silence. The lord of death snorted, smog billowing out of its nostrils. Its voice was laced with sarcasm with the finesse of arsenic. **"You are being far too loud. I'm sure they can hear you all the way in the first circle."**

The hand slid to the neck and gripped tight before he began to pull. A soft, short scream left the teeth before the corpse clenched down on his jaw forcefully. Soon the skeleton was free from its bonds and held up above the deity by the throat. Chipped phalanges attempted to claw at the hold simply out of human habits that had never been lost. Out of a small spark of self-preservation he struggled. This made the Shinigami give a ghoulish smile around his dagger. Starting from his elbow, a bead began to glow and like circular dominos the others soon caught light all the way up its arm until it reached its victim. Any and all attempts at silence soon ceased as an inhuman scream rang through the air. After all…growing a body was far from painless. Layer after layer sprung up painfully as organs, nerves, muscles, skin, and hair, the whole shebang sprung up like masochistic and macabre plants.

Now held within the claws of Death was a naked young man whose skin was a sleek coating of snow, slightly pink with novelty. His hair was a dark silky blue-tinted black with bangs that framed his aristocratic face while the back spiked up like ruffled feathers. His face was handsomely twisted in pain as a dark scowl skewed his lips, eyes a mismatched pair, one a ruby and onyx colored kaleidoscope while the left was a puddle of cerulean. If looked at closely, a small, barely visible incision could be seen at the edges of this eye. His skin was flawless save for a faded marking that marred the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Three twisted tear drops swirled in a corrupting whirlpool. A different kind of noose, not as suffocating but damning all the same.

The man was released and fell to the barren earth, panting deeply as he grasped at his neck, clawing at air. There was silence as forbidden eyes glared in annoyance at the bright yet dead portals of Death. Once he caught his breath and stood upright he spoke.

"….What do you want?"

" **I have an offer for you, Uchiha Sasuke."**

Its words bade nothing good in Sasuke's mind and his eyes narrowed. He wasn't stupid. That's one of the things that the Shinigami found fascinating about Sasuke. The human didn't delude himself into thinking that gods were noble creatures that did anything out of the good of their hearts or for a few prayers. It could happen but very rarely did it. Whatever faith the man could have had, in deities and in humans, was crushed when he was still young and impressionable, when the cries of an eight-year old were ignored by an apathetic world. But Death heard him. It was the only thing the boy had cried for, for so long.

"I hold absolutely no interest in this 'offer' of yours Shinigami. Leave me." Sasuke turned to walk away but his next words stopped him faster than any pause button could hope to.

" **Not even an offer of redemption?"** Silence. The shinigami smirked as the man made no move to take another step. The Shinigami began to circle Sasuke as a predator would prey. The Uchiha hated it. Orochimaru used to do the same." **Didn't you leave the world, regretting that you would never be able to wash away your past sins? That you would never be able to repay those that stood at your side, no matter what foolish decision you made?** " Sasuke's teeth began to grind silently as his hands fisted. As the god continued to talk his nails dug ever deeper into his palms.

" **Your brother sacrificed every piece of himself for you…never asking for anything in return. He slaughtered his family…and begged on his hands and knees like a dog for the Hokage to spare your life. He played the villain not only to gather intel but also to give you a purpose, even if that purpose was to see his corpse cooling at your feet. He sacrificed his future and eventually, his very life for you. Uchiha Itachi loved you, Uchiha Sasuke."** He made another 180 degree turn. **"And the vessel Uzumaki Naruto…who stood by you, even when you joined his sworn enemies…even after the multiple attempts you made trying to take his life…even after you swore to destroy the very village he promised to protect. Never before have I seen such foolish, misplaced dedication."**

"Don't talk about them. Your tongue is not worthy enough for their names to cross it." Sasuke's voice was hoarse with barely contained rage that shook his entire form in a way that no cold could duplicate. A hiss that sounded disturbingly similar to his past summons.

Hook.

The deity paused right behind Sasuke and leaned down, the scent of decay and freshly turned soil on its lips which were right by Sasuke's ear. A dark smirk stretched its slaughterhouse smelling maw.

" **I can speak of whomever I wish, little mortal. And I know…that you would do anything to see them again. Wouldn't you want…a second chance?"**

Line.

Sasuke's eyes widened as the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. His tone was not as biting as it would have been under normal circumstances but still held a ring of loathing, of grief. He didn't move to face him.

"Don't toy with me. You told me time travel is impossible."

Sinker.

The deity pulled back, the smug coating its face so thick it was almost scandalous. Sasuke finally turned and met its gaze evenly.

" **Indeed it is."**

"Then why the hell are you wasting my time?!"

" **What time is there to waste? You are dead. You no longer hold any purpose. I merely said time travel is impossible. Dimension travel however is not."** Eyes narrowed to slits, Sasuke assessed him…it. He didn't need to be reminded of either piece of information. He was already painfully aware of it and had been for decades. It was impossible to forget. That was the true torture of his particular purgatory: to forever relive each hellish moment of his life. To contemplate the possibilities for different paths. The could have been and should have been list could go on and on, and drove him to the brink of insanity. Just as it had in life, but at least while he was alive he had some goal to work toward. Life had distracted him from the grim reality.

"….There would be no point then. It wouldn't be them. Nothing more than copies."

" **Ah but does it really matter? They would still be in essence 'Itachi' and 'Naruto'. And you know they would want you to help their counterparts…to stop them from suffering the same fates they did."**

"But sending me to another world where I already exist would create a paradox."

" **Despite what you previously thought, you are just as expendable as all humans are."** So that meant there wouldn't be an Uchiha Sasuke in that world? Or would he just be sent to a world with one regardless of the consequences?

"…You still didn't tell me what you get out of it."

" **Entertainment. I grow bored of the way the things are…I wish to stir things up. Get the…what did your teacher call it? The 'windmill' turning once more. And I think you are the perfect breeze to do it."** Honestly Sasuke still found himself mildly surprised at such a blunt answer. Then again…he knew he shouldn't have expected more. He was also irritated he was just a "breeze".

"What else? There has to be some personal price I have to pay. You don't do this for free…even for the sake of your sick amusement."

" **Didn't you once say you would do anything to reach your goals? Even 'selling your flesh to the devil?' Granted, your body does not interest me. How about your soul instead?"**

"Che. Don't you already own that? I am dead."

" **You misunderstand…I am merely saying I haven't had a good meal in a long time. Not since the Sandaime Hokage summoned me."**

"….So you'd be eating my soul, just as you would if I were to perform a technique such as the Reaper Death Seal. When would you collect?"

" **The two main characters that caused the entire mess were Uchiha Madara, and the apparition your people called 'Black Zetsu'. Uchiha Obito was but a pawn that tried to foolishly make it in the big leagues. Once those two are handed to me…your time is up."**

"Anyone else? I'm surprised you aren't asking me to take care of those immortals within Akatsuki or those seeking to escape you such as Orochimaru."

" **Touché. Consider them bonus points."**

Bonus points for what, the deity didn't say. It wasn't like he would have any purpose afterwards. Madara was the biggest threat to both Naruto and Itachi, hell, to the entire ninja world. But at the end of the day, he too had been a puppet. Black Zetsu, while not the strongest in a fight, was the mastermind behind the entire affair. He, Madara and Obito all but manipulated the world to their liking for decades, before he was even born. Kaguya wouldn't become an issue if they didn't release her. Sasuke could work with this. Just as he was about to accept this offer the Shinigami smirked.

" **Ah ah ah…I didn't say I was done. After all I don't want this to be too easy for you."** Sasuke quirked a silent brow as irritation was scrawled across his face.

"You're already getting my soul what more do you want?!" A decayed hand reached forward and tapped lightly against the skin just under his eye. Then he nicked it, the flesh reddening as it opened. An illusion of a bloody tear.

" **Think of it as…a test of sorts. Weren't you one of Konoha's best? Surely fighting blind shouldn't be too difficult. After all, it wouldn't be permanent…you can earn them back and maybe if you're really good—"** Sasuke growled at the demeaning vocabulary. He wasn't a child! " **I'll even throw in something…extra."**

"How the hell would I earn them back? Is that what those 'bonus points' are for?! This isn't an academy exam, this is real life. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm already at a disadvantage as is." Sasuke growled. Placing a hand on its chin, the god hummed in thought. A disturbing sound.

" **True…but that is not my problem. I am sure you can find a replacement…such an injury didn't stop Shimura Danzo. And it wouldn't be much of a test if I gave you the cheat sheet, now would it? So…do we have a deal?"**

Sasuke watched in morbid fascination as a sheet of the god's skin was removed and then placed in front of him. A strange, black raven's feather quill was put in his hand. Something was off about it and he quickly found out what.

" **Write what I dictate, word for word."** Upon etching the first word Sasuke winced as red bled out of the tip, and from the smell of it he could tell it was blood. His blood. How cliché. He would ignore the pain and steady drain as the Shinigami, that fucking sadist, made him write their binding contract that felt like it was longer than it should have been. When he finished he leaned back. **"Last chance to back out…"**

"Just show me where I pay the toll for this bridge."

" **Heh he heh hehe….sign at the bottom."** Taking a deep breath, Sasuke began to write.

うちはサスケ

The contract abruptly rolled and appeared in the Shinigami's claws while the quill withered to ashes in his hand. The god began to laugh and the world around them began to swirl and melt away, with each cackle more color was sucked out of the backdrop. Shades faded away to reveal blank slates and those too eventually were erased. They were now in the snowy mountains of Yuki-no-Kuni, white blanketing everything and the only light source provided was the glow of the Shinigami's bright neon eyes. A clawed, purple, puss-filled hand lay down over his eyes. With a sharp shock, the world was scorched to black.

Gasping in agony Sasuke fell to his knees, the cold penetrating his unprotected skin, each snowflake a sharpened shuriken as his hands caught him from falling face first. His eyes now held a permanent glaze, faded and washed out like old jeans. They were clouded with a different darkness now, not the sort that originated from his wound-riddled heart. It took him a few minutes to collect himself and stagger to his feet, his arm wrapping around himself. He could sense the deity had left, uncaring if it had left the Uchiha out here to die. Sasuke swore to survive just to spite him.

"…Of course he'd leave me in the frozen wilderness, naked. That sadist…" Yet despite that setback, despite this entire situation…for the first time in a long time…Uchiha Sasuke smiled.

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Done. Special thanks goes out to evilsugarnazioverlord, for acting as my wonderful editor. :)

~Kenthos


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: Gods don't get involved in mortal affairs for any _real_ reason, noble or otherwise. When it really comes down to it, it's just for the sake of entertainment. Sasuke Uchiha finds this out all too well as he treads the uncertain, often rocky path to redemption. This story is AU, wherein Sasuke died as a result of his wounds at the VotE after his final battle with Naruto. Not canon-compliant after 698. Gen fic.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto or anything that can be found within the Naruto universe. All copyrights of the series belong to their respective holders and I make no profit in writing this. The plot for this fanfiction however, is my own.

 **Chapter 2: A Different Dysfunctional Family - Fugaku**

"Of all the sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these,

'It might have been'."

–John Greenleaf Whittier

 _Maud Muller – Pamphlet_

Grief.

Grief has a level of devastation that no natural disaster can claim. It doesn't even _have_ a finger to lift and yet its searing, ravaging, touch can penetrate the deepest, darkest crevices of the human heart. No vein, no chamber, nor sinew of muscle is spared. It's a form of rot that, if not stopped, decays a person from the inside….out. Grief is a staple ingredient that makes up the complex recipe that is the human experience. It's the blackest, most bitter cup of coffee that sits at life's breakfast nook that no one wishes to drink. However, it must be ingested in order to better appreciate the sweet perkiness of pancakes or the warmth of eggs, whichever style of preparation is preferred. It makes the rare syrup sweetened moments all the more savory. And for all the things it does, grief makes you tired, and no one knows that better than Uchiha Fugaku.

Fugaku kneeled in the traditional form known as seiza before his fellow clansmen, back straight and shoulders tense despite the fact they wanted nothing more than to wilt like two ice cream scoops on a melting sundae. They were in the chamber hidden underneath the Naka Shrine, an edifice they had been associated with and tasked with its care since its construction. It had been around since the founding days of the village, said to have been crafted by Uchiha Madara himself. Personally Fugaku thought that was a load of crock. The man was a shinobi, not an architect.

His eyes snapped into focus as a hush fell over the previously murmuring congregation. A young, long haired young man—Uchiha Inabi if his memory served him correctly—had stormed to his feet, his Sharingan eyes were red flashing rubies in the dim candlelit chamber. His form was rigid with anger, it was justified anger no doubt, but that was the most dangerous kind.

"Enough! Is this not what Madara-sama warned us of?! Look at us!" Inabi gestured—a little too dramatically really but not so over the top he would be called out for it—towards them all. "We've been reduced to nothing but rats! Scurrying around in the darkness, just trying to survive on the scraps the village deems fit to feed us! And they have even been so _considerate_ as to put us in a monitored cage! 'Clan grounds' and 'cage' must be one and the same to them!" At his words, others began to speak up as well, though some were not as passionate or as loud, their words still bounced off the walls of the room and their eardrums.

"They watch us night and day…I spotted an anbu through my window the other night!"

"My paperwork for becoming a sensei got 'lost' again."

"Whenever I show up at a training ground, most people leave…they think I'll steal their jutsu."

Fugaku closed his eyes tiredly as the words fell on him like rain. However as soon as the 'drops' touched him, they turned into caltrops that dug into his skin with a dogged determination. Sadly some of these complaints did have some base for suspicion. Most wouldn't believe owning a clan compound would be a bad thing but it was when you weren't allowed to leave it as often as you would think. Whenever a member attempted to move out on their own, outside of the district, they faced a variety of obstacles. Getting the paperwork just to file for the move was difficult. Then there was finding an apartment building that wasn't "full" and inevitably the person moving would have to deal with uncomfortably attentive neighbors. At least living in the compound provided support from fellow family members.

"Fugaku-sama! We must do _something_!"

"We can't let this continue! It's a violation of the rights we were given as a founding clan of the village!"

"Talk to the Hokage!"

"Oh don't waste your breath. He and his advisors are part of the problem. We'll have to use force."

"Che. With how weak the village has gotten since the Kyuubi attack, it wouldn't be too difficult…"

"Just what are you implying?!"

"We are the most powerful clan in Konoha! Overthrowing the Hokage would be child's play."

" **ENOUGH!"** The room was so quiet then that rolling tumbleweed would not be remiss in the backdrop. Except for the fact it wasn't native to the area. Fugaku had stood in his anger and was glaring down at them all, reddened eyes effectively biting any lingering wagging tongues. His voice was low, dangerous like an unseen ditch that if not paid the proper attention, consequences would be suffered. "You speak so openly of treason, which only proves the validity of their suspicions!"

"Then we just sit here and do nothing?! Wait until they decide to wipe us all out?!" Inabi sneered. Fugaku was disquieted to see a few elders nod out of his peripheral vision. His worry was further compounded by the soft murmuring of agreement that rustled through the crowd as wind rustled through the grass blades of Kusa. It wasn't a majority, but it was concerning all the same. But just because people didn't speak out did not mean they felt differently from those that did.

"No. We prove their assumptions unfounded through _peaceful_ means Inabi. Until you or anyone else comes up with a coherent plan that WON'T end in our deaths, I suggest you _sit down and shut up."_ Even as the words left his lips he knew they held no substance, not even in his own heart. The rift between the village and the Uchiha had once been but a crack, back when Madara had abandoned the village but over the years it had deepened into a large ravine. Giving the Uchiha clan reins to the police force had been both a blessing and a curse and Fugaku wasn't entirely sure the Nidaime Hokage had been ignorant of. Sure it was a position of power, but it was an authoritative position that was feared, distrusted and loathed. The rumors that the Uchiha clan had set the Kyuubi on the village did not help their PR matters either.

As the meeting tapered off and small groups stayed behind, Fugaku felt like a shipwreck survivor. He was floating in the middle of an abyss with only a piece of wood to keep him afloat. For just as tenuous as the relationship between the village and the Uchiha clan was…so was his position of clan head. He was sinking fast and had to stop the leak before it sank all of them. Each step home felt like he was walking on water…and chakra was running out fast.

Xxxxx Some Time Later xxxxX

"Mikoto?" His tone was low and soft and despite that, it was a particularly loud thunder clap in the constant thunderstorm that rages within the house. It was a storm that holds little to no lightning, save for the brief, neurotic flashes of life that occasionally steal across his wife's eyes. She started, startled by what she perceives to be his sudden appearance and looked up to him with washed out dark eyes that used to gleam like pieces of fine polished onyx. Now, they were as dull and bleak as the remaining drops of cheap dollar store paint. Dark circles born out of exhaustion stood out like target rings around her eyes.

Fugaku found her sitting at the table, a cup of lukewarm green tea sitting in between her dainty hands, her fingers tight. Mikoto's entire frame was as frail and slight as a trim glass goblet, constantly teetering on the edge of some surface, threatening to fall—or jump—into the abyss and shatter. Her hair spoke of multiple worry induced meetings with her hand and her clothes were slightly rumpled. As it was early afternoon, the only light penetrating the bleak kitchen streamed in through the window.

"Oh….hello Dear." Her voice was somehow even softer than his, barely a raspy whisper. The smile that laced her lips had the sincerity of face paint and was wiped away with the ease of it. Her mouth became a trembling upside-down U as she bit her lower lip. "Do…you know when Itachi-kun will return?"

"…His team just checked in a little over an hour ago. They should be at the gates in less than half an hour, an hour tops." His voice held none of the resigned nature of repetition. He told her this less than twenty minutes ago but he had developed a level of patience previously thought impossible for him, so it didn't bother him as much as it previously did. Mikoto seemed to shrink in on herself a little at the reminder and nodded meekly. Hesitantly, he rubbed her back for a few scant minutes before he left her to her solitude. It was the only thing he could do.

His bare feet shuffled across the polished wooden floor, so loud… _loudloudloudloud_ in this stillness. They dragged him, almost against his will, down the hall. Itachi's first steps echoed in his memory as ghostly toddler feet stumbled, and past 'I love you's floated in the air like a sweet fragrance. However as he neared a certain door, wailing weeping and clinical apologies soured it to a bile summoning odor. The distinct lack of infantile cries made it feel all the more hollow. Taking a deep breath, Fugaku tiredly slid the door open to reveal a vacant nursery.

Dust would have lined the living mausoleum but Fugaku was all too aware his wife spent far too much time in here. Whether it was healthy or not, it didn't matter. He couldn't—wouldn't—take this one thing away from her. The floor was a grassy green carpet and the walls a pale, barely there blue. The one window in the room was framed by royal blue curtains that were permanently drawn shut, letting in little to no light. Directly below the window laid a pristine wooden crib, the sheets perfectly made and small stuffed toys softened the corners. The mobile that dangled over it was silent and the plastic yellow stars and crescent smiling moon were motionless. Their glow-in-the-dark paint coats glowed in an eerie shade of green in the darkness.

Fugaku dared to step foot inside and waded past the piles of colorful building blocks, toy shuriken, a ball and other assortment of toys before he stood directly over the crib. He nearly stepped on the damn Jack-in-the-box and merely pushed it to the side with his foot, giving it a small glare as he did so. He picked up a small, lime green stuffed dinosaur. It had a mean upper bite and its tail was less pointy and more like a ball with fabric scales on it. The arms were pudgy and it had a goofy lopsided grin on its face. The blue bow around its neck was still there, even if its shiny patina faded.

Itachi wasn't meant to be an only child. Three years ago his wife had been pregnant with their second son, Sasuke. Fugaku had been so proud…so happy that he would have another son that would no doubt be as great as his older brother. The two would be as great as Uchiha Madara and Uchiha Izuna and they would lead the clan into a new golden age. Looking back now, the Uchiha cursed his foolishness, his greed, his stupidity. In those days, power and the clan had been the only two things on his mind. They were placed on pedestals like idols and ones he paid far too much homage to. He had lost sight of what truly mattered…he replaced "family" with "clan" and "happiness" with "power".

Sasuke had been a stillborn. That was his much needed bitch slap to reality but Fugaku would have given anything to have the price changed. The dinosaur squeaked weakly as his grip around it tightened. The sound startled him and he looked at it before his eyes slipped closed in grief. He took a long, bracing breath and tucked it back in its tiny little corner along with a plain teddy bear and stuffed red dog. He glanced back at the door as he heard Itachi's low reassuring voice and Mikoto's soft, worrying whispers. Shutting the door behind him gently, he left down the hall. In his absence, an unexplainable breeze caught the mobile and the plastic universe began to sway, to spin…to change. The moon's grin became a little more of a smirk, a little more sinister…but perhaps…it was just the light?

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This is an interlude of sorts. It occurred around the same time Sasuke arrived in Yuki no Kuni. Sasuke will not arrive in the Hidden Leaf Village for some time, due to reasons that will be expanded upon once we check in on him again.

 **A few announcements:** I've decided it may be best if I update every other week…simply because I'm starting to feel like I'm posting rushed work. So there will be no update next week, I'm sorry.

As for the pairings in this fic: this is a genfic. Sasuke will not be romantically involved with anyone, male or female. If there are side pairings, there are side pairings but they won't be the focus of this story.

Lastly, a huge thank you to evilsugarnazioverlord for editing this chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: Gods don't get involved in mortal affairs for any _real_ reason, noble or otherwise. When it really comes down to it, it's just for the sake of entertainment. Sasuke Uchiha finds this out all too well as he treads the uncertain and often rocky path to redemption. This story is AU, wherein Sasuke died as a result of his wounds at the VotE after his final battle with Naruto. Not canon-compliant after 698. Gen fic.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto or anything that can be found within the Naruto universe. All copyrights of the series belong to their respective holders and I make no profit in writing this. The plot for this fanfiction however, is my own.

 **Chapter 3: A Different Dysfunctional Family – Mikoto**

"You can love someone so much… But you can never love someone as much as you miss them."

–John Green

 _An Abundance of Katherines_

Addiction: the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma. Once upon a time Mikoto had pitied and looked down upon those suffering with such an affliction. She had thought that perhaps they were too weak to kick their habits— _if only they just tried a little harder_ — or just didn't want to get better— _they're too prideful to ask for help_. She had believed it would be all too easy to quit anything that proved to be self-damaging in any way, especially with a bit of self-preservation and a mighty amount of willpower. Mikoto had understood so little then.

Now she knew better with the constant, twinging ache in her chest and red-rimmed eyes that stood out more than any makeup could and had nothing to do with her bloodline. Mikoto could understand how it felt when something that made you so happy was taken so abruptly away, leaving hollowed emptiness. Not the sort that comes from the usual vacant area but knowing something _used to be there_ and was _supposed to be there_ but no longer was. She never knew one could be addicted to other people…and in most cases, others meant it in a romantic light whenever such an analogy was used. However that wasn't the case. Her lost son and all the possibilities that left with him haunted her. For Mikoto, this longing was an emotional withdrawal…that would likely never be soothed nor healed.

She didn't mean to do it…not really. But it was a habit that had become ingrained into her daily routine, into her very veins, and it thrummed insistently through her blood until she did it. But the urge never completely left, it only quieted until the next day. Opening the hallway closet where she kept her cleaning supplies, Mikoto slipped on a pair of rubber gloves and wrapped a handkerchief in her hair to keep the dust and grime away. She grabbed her weapons: her broom, a mop, a bucket, a feather duster, soap, some wash rags and a bottle of window cleaner.

She slowly shuffled down the hall, precariously balancing all her wares and being mindful not to drop a single one. Upon reaching the door, several markings marred it. Empty holes and scuff marks decorated the wood and it spoke of a time when Fugaku had followed the instructions of a therapist and tried to keep her out of this room. This effort was proven futile when she just picked and/or broke the locks. After a while, her husband had given up on this front. Opening the door, she placed her items by the threshold before she began the arduous task of cleaning the entire room and its contents from top to bottom. Unused sheets, blankets, clothes and stuffed animals were organized and placed into different piles according to item and care instructions, before the first one was placed in the washer.

The windows were scrubbed, the nooks dusted, the crib mattress flipped and eventually after hours of work, everything was clean and disinfected. A strong floral scent now permeated the room to an almost nauseating level. Mikoto would lovingly and gently place everything back in place, handling the toys and stuffed animals with especially affectionate care. She liked to arrange them in such a way that suggested use. The white fur of a plush bear clashed with her raw-red hands. She'd awkwardly stand at the threshold of the door once she was finished, unsure of what to do with herself now that her main task of the day was complete. Taking a shaky breath, she'd go and tidy up Itachi's room, though obviously not to the same degree since it was nearing evening and she'd have to get started on dinner soon. At long last, her cleaning supplies were put away.

Fugaku arrived home just after she had removed the rice from the stove and he planted a timid kiss to her hair. If he noticed that she set the table for four, he didn't comment. Itachi was the last to arrive and Mikoto began meticulously checking him over for any injury or wear, like a child would a long lost toy. Not even a tired sigh was issued as Itachi knew his mother needed this. Finally, she'd smile a little at him before giving him a parting hug, the end of their little ritual. That night dinner was full of stifled silence, to the point that any passing crickets seemed unruly.


	4. Chapter 4

Summary: Gods don't get involved in mortal affairs for any _real_ reason, noble or otherwise. When it really comes down to it, it's just for the sake of entertainment. Sasuke Uchiha finds this out all too well as he treads the uncertain and often rocky path to redemption. This story is AU, wherein Sasuke died as a result of his wounds at the VotE after his final battle with Naruto. Not canon-compliant after 698. Gen fic.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto or anything that can be found within the Naruto universe. All copyrights of the series belong to their respective holders and I make no profit in writing this. The plot for this fanfiction however, is my own.

 **Chapter 4: A Different Dysfunctional Family – Itachi**

"A lot of parents will do anything for their kids except let them be themselves."

–Bansky

 _Wall and Piece_

When a casual observer casts their eyes over the gates of Konoha, they see many things. Economic opportunities, stability, new beginnings, a home, a death trap, an enemy camp, it all really depended upon their unique point of view. The world is viewed through many a different looking glass but Uchiha Itachi only saw the outer walls of his personal prison. Which was quite a jaded view, considering the genin was only 7 years old, though if you were to ask him he would point out that he would be 8 soon. Alright, perhaps he was being a bit harsh. After all, Konoha was his home and he loved it dearly, flaws and all. But it could be…suffocating, at times. As the gates came into view, his older teammate, Izumo Tenma, elbowed him in the side with a sharp, impish grin. The youth had a head of untamed, dark grey hair and piercing, black eyes.

"Hey Itachi, your babysitter's waiting for ya!" The child resisted the urge to sigh as, sure enough, his older cousin, Shisui, could be seen leaning casually against the side of the check-in station. The tiny black-haired youth spotted the team and waved, though it turned a bit sheepish upon seeing Itachi's resigned expression.

"Tenma, leave Itachi alone. So what if Shisui escorts him home? That just shows he cares about him." Their third teammate, Inari Shinko scolded, her thick accent morphing her words. Her light purple, bordering on silver hair was done in Pippy Longstocking style, two pigtails that curved slightly upwards while her bangs framed her round face. Her eyes matched her teammates' in that they were dark, almost black in color.

"Che. He doesn't do it because he WANTS to. He does it because Itachi's mom makes him. She'd wrap him in bubble wrap if she could."

"Enough, all of you. We just finished the mission and you choose now to start arguing?" The words of their sensei and team leader, Minazuki Yūki, are dipped in resigned exasperation. His features are nearly nondescript, with long, brown hair that is tied back in a jagged ponytail, black eyes, and a baby goatee dusts his chin. Though his students – Shinko and Tenma when he chooses to care enough to add his two cents –have insisted he'd probably look better without it, he stubbornly refuses to shave. He is dressed in the standard jonin uniform. "Besides, the fact that Uchiha-san walks Itachi home and his motives behind doing so are none of our business." That quieted Team 2, and while they were one of the best genin teams in Konoha at the moment, their teamwork…needed work.

Once they reached the station, the group signed in, recording their return time, the mission identification number, the team name and identification number. Upon finishing the last character with a flourish, Minazuki-sensei straightened up and clapped his hands for his students' attention. Shisui stayed a respectable distance away, knowing better than to approach before the team was dismissed.

"Alright, I'll go report in. However, I expect you all to have your written reports finished by tomorrow, before we meet up. Before they are turned in, I'll check them over and critique any mistakes you made and offer suggestions to make your reports better. Understand?"

"Hai, Minazuki-sensei." The three chorused, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Itachi's voice was neutral and possibly the most 'excited,' out of the trio, though even that was stretching it. Tenma's was full of dread, and Shinko's was only marginally better. Still, it was a skill they had to learn for future missions. The academy neglected to mention just HOW MUCH paperwork was involved in the life of a ninja.

"Heh. Good, then you're all dismissed." As the team dispersed like morning mist, Shisui gravitated over to Itachi's side, his hands shoved in his pockets. The older of the two smiled and partially leaned down so they were closer in height.

"Soooo? How did the mission go?" Itachi sighed and glanced over at him in mild, irritated amusement. A wry, tired smile split his face.

"We were trampled to death by ostriches. This is just my ghost returning home." Shisui snorted as he tried hard to repress his snickers before he flipped the other's ponytail.

"Just don't let Auntie Mikoto hear you say that." At that reminder, Itachi's shoulders slumped and he seemed to shrink in on himself, just a little. His companion winced. Damn it, he should have kept his mouth shut. Shisui scrambled to come up with a way to salvage the situation and an epiphany came over him as he spotted a woman walk by, an all too familiar tea-green bag clutched in her hand. There was hiragana written on the left side, each individual character boldly embellished in a banana yellow diamond. He laid a hand on Itachi's shoulder. "Hey, how about before we head home, we grab some dango on the way? As a way to celebrate a successful mission?" Itachi regarded the hand on his shoulder blankly, though if you knew him well enough, you could see the interest kindling in his eyes.

"But I never told you whether my mission succeeded or failed-"

"Details, details!" Soon both the child's shoulders were accosted by Shisui's hands and the genin was being steered to the nearby dango stand. "Besides, it's YOU. The day you failed a mission is the day I eat my sandals." Well…that was true. Though with the most recent task they were given, how COULD they fail? Itachi could all but smell his clan's influence in the decision that his team be assigned that particular mission but he kept such thoughts to himself.

The two ordered their dango and walked side by side, and their destination was the Uchiha compound. As he munched on his first stick, Itachi glanced at Shisui out of the corner of his eye. Shisui would doubtless get in trouble for not taking him straight home, but Itachi had a feeling the other didn't mind much. It was these small acts of defiance, these deviances that caused Shisui to be his best friend…almost his brother figure even. Though, there was always this underlying tension between them…and Itachi hated himself for being the one that caused most of it. But he couldn't let it go – let his suspicions go – so easily. When it came to his clan…especially his parents…Itachi was often babied and his growth stifled if it meant lowering the risk of injury or worse to his person. And as Shisui was close to his age, not to mention one of the clan's most talented members, in the first few days of their friendship he had suspected he was planted there just to be his discreet bodyguard of sorts.

Shisui had pleasantly surprised him and his offer of friendship appeared genuine. After three years, the two were quite close but there were…moments…where it felt like even Shisui was trying to protect him from something. As if he expected that whatever it was, Itachi couldn't handle it himself. They were few and far between…but they were often enough that it made the younger Uchiha question Shisui's true feelings. If he had to choose between the clan's overprotective measures and trusting in Itachi's own ability to make decisions…which would he pick?

"Oi, earth to Itachi! We're here!" Shisui's voice jarred him from their thoughts, and Itachi found them already standing before the gates of the Uchiha compound. After the Kyuubi attack, the clan had been relocated to this remote corner of the village…no doubt those at the top of the village hierarchy blamed the event on the Uchiha. Whether or not an Uchiha was actually responsible for it…Itachi didn't know. But even a blind man could see the rising tensions.

The walk to his home was as cringe-inducing as always. As the heir, Itachi was used to having many eyes cast in his direction at all times. The looks he got however, varied. He was hailed as a prodigy, though that title was terribly dampened by the fact he was kept wrapped up, as Tenma said, in bubble wrap. So there were those that thought such a label was overrated and overused, because of course Itachi would do well in such controlled, low-risk conditions. There was also the bitterness some felt…as their children, their loved ones, were not as protected. And some never came home. Still more pitied him, being as sheltered as he was and oh what would he do once he reached adulthood and his parents weren't there to protect him? Others did truly admire him and just felt he needed the opportunity to prove himself. Those people were in the minority. Still, as he was polite and well-spoken, Itachi mostly garnered smiles…and like the looks, they too, were varied in sincerity. He tried not to let it bother him. Itachi tried a lot of things really.

He tried to show that he wasn't one to be coddled.

He tried to prove his worth.

He tried to get stronger.

He tried not to feel stifled…and most of all…

Itachi tried so very hard not to be frustrated when he kept hitting a brick wall in these ventures.

"Thank you, Shisui."

"No problem! Just don't let them see the dango…they'll tan my hide for ruining your dinner." The more likely reason would be because such a sweet could potentially lead to diabetes. Still, Itachi kept that tidbit to himself. It was a common habit at this point. "Well, see you later!" Shisui gave a parting flip to the heir's hair before walking away. Taking a deep breath that tried not to sound like a sigh, Itachi shoved the significantly emptier bag into his hip pouch in an attempt to make it fit. Once that was accomplished, he headed for the door and opened it.

"I'm back." And then his mother was on him like smoke on fire.

"Welcome home!" Her embrace was strong, loving and desperate. When Mikoto pulled away she checked him over, and while irritating…he was used to it. It was sad, Itachi reflected, when he found his mother's touch and worry to be…annoying. And in that moment he felt like a horrible human being. That too, is something he was getting used to.

After the ever intense affair that was dinner ended, he paused beside the door to the empty nursery on the way to his room. Itachi never got to officially meet his brother…and while he would always have a deep, hollow pit in his heart for the dreaded 'what could have been' wounds and no small amount of unrequited familial love…the young man couldn't help but feel no small ounce of resentment toward Sasuke. Why…why couldn't his little brother be stronger? Why couldn't he stay with him, and mother and father? Why did he have to leave…and hurt them all like this?

And why did Itachi have to suffer in his place?

If the young prodigy shut his door a little harder than usual, well.

That was his business.

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I apologize deeply for the lateness of this chapter, a holiday and family happened and I just couldn't find the time to post this chapter. Thank you all, for your patience.


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